Lightning crashed in the expanse of eye-gouging darkness, as it may have always done. It illuminated the nothingness, casting lances of distorted colors across a shambling mass of ancient bones. Or, rather, it should be said timeless bones; for 'ancient' was too paltry a term to apply to the silhouette of Death himself. Adjusting his demeanor, the recently departed Hero puffed up his chest and crossed his arms. It simply would not do to have Death looking down on him.

"Hello, Kathriss the Verbose," came the somehow throaty rattle, followed by a rhythmic squishing, "I require your assistance, once you have...hrrmmm...adjusted." Kathriss, Mage of Eight Circles and Champion of Arcane Miscellanea, raised a golden eyebrow and strained his eyes against the wriggling umbrage. He did not yet deign to speak, for asking such a juvenile question like 'With what, pray tell?' was foolish when dealing with those grand beings who waited beyond the Mortal Coil. Instead the Hero merely waited.

After a fashion, he could see more clearly. The two of them stood in Death's own Quiet Garden, a field of withered weeds and dead daisies. Kathriss now understood the strange squishing that had punctuated the silence, and why Death's voice sounded labored. The towering reaper stood in a large bucket, the trailing tatters of his famously depicted robe were gathered in knobby hands, and his ligamentless knees rising and falling in perfect time.

"Pigéage?" Kathriss stepped forward, careful to ensure that he did not disturb the rotten blooms in his path. "You are making wine?" He found himself immensely curious, but began removing his boots, lowering himself to the fetid loam instead of leaning closer to look. "From which plant have you decided to distill this concoction you create? I imagine fermentation is a rudimentary prospect for one whose aspect is that of putrefaction and desiccation."

"Not simply any wine, Kathriss the Verbose. I'm making Dreadwine," Death inclined his head, so as to aim empty sockets directly at the Hero for the first time, "that which may entertain even the most benumbed of my kindred. Yet, I grow tired. Assist me, Hero, then we will discuss your placement in the After." Slowly, Death removed himself from the container, stepping over the side and gently shaking his feet free of what seemed to be a purple and black sludge. "The Dreadwine is made from Etherberries, gathered here in my own Garden." Death let out a groan as he sank to the ground beside Kathriss, putting his hands behind his hooded head and crossing one leg lazily over the other.

The Hero nodded, his boots finally free of dainty feet. "Etherberries, you say? Are they not common in the Mortal Coil? I have never heard of this Dreadwine, however. Truly it must be a terrific inebriant! Might I try some, in the future?" With a moment's hesitation, he climbed into the vat and took up where Death had left off. "Strange! They are rather warm...I had not expected such...and the smell is much different from the Etherberries I knew from home!"

"Of course, Hero, there is much unexpected; both here and in the Mortal Coil. You may sample this batch, once it's complete. It's quite good," he had produced parchment and a quill from within the voluminous confines of his garb, scribing something with deliberate sloth, "but I fear that I may be busy, for some time to come. The forces that be grow weary, and death is sure to trail in the wake of their whimsy."

"I do not understand. Are you not one of these 'powers that be'? You are Death himself, one of the most feared and lauded of abstract incarnations!"

"If I could, Kathriss, I might've blushed. But no, I have no influence over what is to come."

"What, pray tell, is to come?"

"I...do not yet know. I don't think anyone does."

Polychromatic lightning spread overhead, followed by a slowing squishing sound.